Fuck spelling

I can't help but think that there is some kind of covert operation occuring aimed at brainwashing mankind into thinking that spelling = education. Everywhere I turn there is some spelling ploy: a movie, Akeelah and the Bee, which I assume is about a little girl named Akeelah and her touching story of winning a spelling bee. Great. Every time I walk into Starbucks I'm slapped in the face with an interesting word, a word like prospicience and I instantly look around for the definition and find none. It is SO irritating. What good does it do me to know what a word looks like, read: how to spell it if I don't know what it means?
The problem was exasperated by a commentation I heard on NPR this evening about the importance of teaching the multi-colored youth of America to spell. The commentator argued at length on how if we as a nation did not teach the "multi-colored" (a term he frequently used) youth of America to spell we would end up with "crabby old white people" and ignorant colored people. He concluded his opinion by painting a picture of what he envisioned the future of multi-colored America to be: a green eyed, brown skinned, dirty blonde with dreadlocks. Cute, huh?
What does spelling have to do with it? Spelling in modern society is useless. One word will justify my last sentence: spellcheck. If not spellcheck, a dictionary. I say we teach kids the meaning of the word, and if necessary, how to remember how to spell it by referring to its root. Something a little more intelligent than memorizing the order letters appear to form a word.

What a difference a night makes

After a restful night of sleep, I awakened this morning feeling less anxious about the Ben situation. Ben can do whatever he feels like doing. He is free to date whomever and feel however he wishes to.
I however am afforded the same rights. I choose, at this point, to not care.

My aversion

I can barely stand to go on to myspace anymore. I guess a more accurate statement would be that I have such an aversion to myspace at this point in time that I can barely tear myself away from it. It's sort of the same feeling one might get if they passed a car accident on the side of the road. I can see pools of blood even before I see the dead, mangled, exposed bowel bodies, yet I have to look, to see what such horror really looks like. Maybe it is a bit drastic to compare what I perceive to be a relationship between someone who is not even my boyfriend, (never was and probably never will be) and some girl (who I've never met and who could potentially be very lovely) with a fatal car crash, but it feels like an accurate parallel. I guess it's worse because it's thrown in my face, or on myspace, which is almost as intimate as my face. I guess it's worse because she lives in California and so do I, she got to visit him, gets to have inside jokes with him, gets to share emails, phone calls, what-have-you with him and I don't. I guess it's also worse because I feel like I did something wrong because he won't talk to me and so now all I can do is guess.

Hey, jealousy.

I am a very jealous person. I literally become sick when I think of guys who I have loved/currently love canoodling with other women. I just can't get over the fact that these women invariably have something that I was incapable of keeping. It's not that I'm competitive, it's more of an abandonment issue. Don't leave me/come back to me. Love me.
All very sad. All very much issues from my childhood that were never dealt with properly and therefore will plague me my entire adult cardigan and cat filled life.

Elexa

Today I purchased my first condoms. Not that I haven't used them before, I just never felt that they were my responsibility. The people at Trojan have finally figured out that marketing condoms to women will make us buy them. I'm so serious that it hurts. I would have never thought of buying them before Elexa.
I feel like having a lot of sex just so I can buy more condoms.